Chapter 26: Face Off
Source: Journal
Name: Mark Boggs
The VEG Headquarters was an easy breach. Silvia had done her fair share of breaking and entering over the years. We entered through the back as to go undetected. Once inside, Silvia linked a live map that displayed the exact location of each security guard in my Jackers.
My feet glided silently across the marble floors, my body finding the rhythm of the hunt. There were no screams, no grunts or cries for help, just muffled struggles that were short lived. I swept through the guards within the hour and the building lay quiet. Once finished, Silvia kicked back into gear, eager to lead the way.
My pointer finger rubbed the side of my Glock 17 like prayer beads hoping for good fortune as Silvia, Evo, and I ran through the maze of hallways in the VEG headquarters. Silvia darted left and right down unmarked corridors with an eerie familiarity as if running through her old neighborhood. I had stopped questioning her copious amounts of secret knowledge.
We arrived at a steel door with an advanced security system. She pressed her palm against a reader to her right. Lasers shot out, scanning her retina and then prompted her for a voice recognition pass code. “Silvia,” she said. Evo was pacing back and forth behind me.
“Identity confirmed. Welcome Silvia,” a robotic voice said. The metallic door groaned and slid upwards.
The room was dark to the degree that shadows died in its depths. Silvia fumbled around for some kind of switch on the wall when the metal door came slamming down behind us, cutting off our only exit.
“Silvia Sanders,” said a voice darker than the room itself. It lurked from an unknown origin. I pointed my Glock into the void abyss. Then the name registered in my brain. Sanders... Sanders, Charles Sanders. It all makes sense. The daughter of Charles Sanders... before I could process further, I felt the cold nozzle of a gun press firmly against my temple.
“Drop it,” said a voice that was rougher than the first. His breath reeked of cheap cigarettes, whiskey, and experience. A soft click, and the entire scene illuminated.
“The daughter of the creator himself,” said a scarecrow of a man. The skin on his face looked as though it was shrink wrapped to his skull, accenting his hollow cheeks. He looked malnourished, evil in nature, as though he fed on souls of the weak.
Black eyes peered around the room, gazing in amusement. Dark shades lined his lids that only an insomniac portrayed. His crisp black suit looked to empower his esteem. “I had tried to have all of Charles’s access denied upon his death, but alas, the man surprises me from the afterlife. I didn’t think you had survived our successful attempt on your mother, but I stand corrected.” Silvia shivered like a puppy during a lightning storm.
“Oh pardon my manners. Introductions are always the proper way to begin. My name is... well you can call me Mr. Smith. My esteemed colleague over here, that as far as I can see has already become properly acquainted with your close friend, is Mr. Miller.” He made a throat clearing sound and locked his eyes upon me.
The room froze in place, quiet to the point of discomfort. “Who are you?” I managed to force out, feeling the gun on my temple shift with the movement of my jaw.
Mr. Smith looked as though he had become annoyed. “As to not sound redundant, and to educate you on the formalities of introduction, I will do this for you. Your name is Mark Boggs, a retired military Special Forces veteran, who found solace in the bottle after his family was torn apart by one life altering event. A man who quite ironically tore apart my plans of ending Gothamsreckoning’s life in her main headquarters.”
Silvia glanced at me before turning back to Mr. Smith. He had us all at attention like we were grade school children being lectured by the principal.
“How did you...” “How did I know your identity? Let’s just say I pride myself on being resourceful,” Mr. Smith said, cutting my words short.
He turned his predatory gaze upon Silvia. “The prodigious daughter survives.” He clapped his hands slow and rhythmic before continuing, “the thorn in my sweet rose, but what came as a curse could turn to a cure if we are all forthcoming. Your father, after we turned him into a paranoid delusional, decided to place certain... restrictions upon our access to VEG. One of which, but of course not all, is the lock that keeps us from having full control. The other is his portion of the profits. He found a way to keep a percentage of his shares of VEG flowing to his home in the afterlife. I can only assume that Daddy’s funds have been spent well upon this little uprising of yours.”
Mr. Smith placed a revolver on the table in front of him. Servers flashed red behind him shedding an ominous light upon the silver barrel of the gun. He tapped it lightly with his forefinger.
“How did you know my location?” Silvia asked, needing to know the answer to the one question that had been lingering in her mind. Mr. Smith jumped upwards slamming both of his palms face down on the table. “Now that, is an excellent question!” he said with a maniacal expression. “Mr. Miller would you be so kind as to show our guests what lies behind door number one?”
Miller was good, he drew away slow, but kept his gun aimed at my temple. He faded out of my peripheral vision and I heard a soft click from my rear. The east wall opened up to reveal three unknown individuals. Two Caucasian males of medium build and one slender Asian female were sitting unconscious and duct taped to chairs. They were malnourished, their figures anorexic in a way that only POW’s knew.
Evo drew his weapon in a blurred haste and locked it upon Mr. Smith’s forehead. “I’m sure you have impeccable accuracy with that thing Evo, but before you squeeze the trigger allow me to shed a little light on one minor detail. Within this adjacent room is a quite fascinating device. Now this machine in particular, was a product of failure,” Mr. Smith said looking around the room as if he were waiting for us to take interest in his lesson. There was a tiny black box in the other room with a nozzle at one end facing the hostages. It looked like a miniature fog machine. The man continued, “Let me explain. During an interrogation, one can only have the upper hand if he has leverage over the prisoner. We found in the past, that unless the threat was foolproof, there was a small chance of failure. This machine is capable of releasing enough Sarin gas to kill a population of one thousand. Overkill I know, but I guess you could say I enjoy being thorough. Now Sarin gas, for those of you that don’t know is a lethal nerve agent. After initial exposure, you feel your chest begin to tighten, then the fun part begins. The victim loses control of all their bodily functions dying in a pool of their own vomit, shit, and piss,” he said with a theatrical smile.
Mr. Smith removed a keypad from his pocket, it was square in shape and the keys were backlit with neon blue. “This is the keypad that operates our little machine in the adjacent room. Our first prototype of this device had a remote keypad with a simple red button to trigger the release. It was not as sleek and aesthetically pleasing as this one,” he said, turning the keypad over in his hand admiring its design. “It was more raw and boxy but it served its purpose all the same. It was placed in the hand of the interrogator, and it had an astonishing ninety nine percent success rate. But in one instance we found the interrogator dead on the floor, his jaw dislocated, with the bulky red buttoned remote lodged in his throat.” Mr. Smith pushed nine or ten numbers on the keypad and then continued. “Where was I? Oh yes... you see, failure is a beautiful dilemma, because with failure, something simple becomes complex. The system evolves into something foolproof. My little remote keypad has a code that must be input once every ten minutes or...well you know the rest. My life before this very moment was merely an obstacle, but now I become needed, one of the most valuable assets you have in the room.” He said, flashing a sick sadistic smile at us.
Mr. Smith paused longer than normal, this time starring down the barrel of Evo’s pistol. “I’ve never been a firm believer in the underdog.
I don’t like the notion of chance. With that being said I’d hate to let our friends expire prematurely.”
Evo’s central mass waivered a bit and then he turned the weapon upon Silvia.
“Evo?” Silvia said shocked.
“There that’s much better,” Mr. Smith said, easing his posture as he sank into the intricate web that he was spinning.
Evo’s eyes were tearing up. “I’m sorry... I love her. I thought he would only arrest you. He swore to me. He promised that no one would get hurt... there was no other way. He took the only people that I ever cared about... told me he would hurt them... hurt them if I didn’t get close to you.” Evo was breaking down, his arm struggling to hold the weight of his gun.
“And I won’t hurt them now that you...”
Evo snapped back like a viper at Mr. Smith. “You shut up...” He launched across the room in a blur and gripped Mr. Smith by his throat, lifting him a foot off the ground. “Release them... Release Kira for god’s sake... Sarin gas? I gave you what you wanted. You never said anything about this. You said they would be safe. Gave me your word that they would be safe.” Mr. Smith didn’t gasp for air; he hardly even struggled as if he couldn’t feel his jugular crushing under Evo’s strangling grip. His hand reached slowly into his pocket and presented the keypad before Evo’s eyes. Evo’s fingers uncoiled, retreating from his neck, shaking with torn emotions.
“It was you who sold us out?” Silvia’s voice sounded soft and betrayed. Then it turned harsh, “My friends... your friends Evo. Your fucking friends. My daughter. They could have killed my only daughter. How long?” She crossed the room and slapped him hard across the face. “How long have you been his informant? How long have you served the man that killed my mother and father? The man that took everything that was dear to me and ripped it away.” She slapped him again. “You were my friend.” He was cowering away from her now, but confused he drew his gun back up waving the barrel back and forth between the two.
Silvia stepped away from him, noticing his failing mental state. Evo’s left hand was now pounding at his head and ripping at his hair, sanity fading with each passing second. He lifted his head back up and focused his attention in my direction with a crazy look in his eyes. “And you! Why did it have to be you?” he asked a rhetorical question, the familiarity in his voice startled me.
He dug the barrel of the gun back and forth into his forehead, scraping at his hairline like some kind of rabid animal. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said as he dropped to his knees sobbing. Rocking back and forth, he held his gun like he was deep in prayer.
The circus act of Evo had everyone’s attention except for Mr. Miller’s. His gaze rested upon the sight finder of his pistol that was locked upon me with a cold calculation. The man was a soldier, and he was hawk eyeing my every movement, the twitch under my right eye, the stiffness of my fingers, even the particles that cycled through my respiratory system. He could see it all and I felt frozen with fear for the first time since my service. Evo’s words had become a jumbled mess and I tried to nod in an understanding manner to comfort him, seeing that I was the current subject of his psycho babblings. The man had no honor and his words fell short.
My mind was focused on an unexpected pawn move that would go unseen to set them up for checkmate. I couldn’t think. Mr. Miller’s gun and gaze had a grip on me and I could feel my heart thumping inside my chest. Sweat leapt from my hair like rain, sliding down to my lips, filling them with a salty taste.
“...Sally,” I snapped back to attention when I heard Evo say my daughter’s name.
“What?” I asked but my question turned everyone silent.
Silvia was staring at Evo in disbelief. Evo looked up at me in horror and then went back to his rocking.
“I think I might be able to shed light on the situation. Do you believe in fate Mr. Boggs?” Mr. Smith said but I had lost sight of the conversation.
“What?”
“Fate, Mr. Boggs. It’s a simple concept. The idea that our lives are predetermined and that we get what we deserve. I myself have never been a firm believer in the idea but our current situation has me doubting.”
Mr. Smith leaned forward in his chair and crossed his hands. “I’d like to tell you a story. Stop me if you’ve heard it. A man serves his country, seeing and doing things that no man should ever have to do in order to protect certain freedoms that we take for granted. He comes home to find solace in his wife but can’t kick his night terrors that haunt his every action. They have a child, a surprise that at first overwhelms but then bears fruit that heals the man’s troubled past. His precious little drop of sunshine buys him a game called VEG, which is ironic for a reason that I will get to later.”
Silvia was now staring at me. I felt my mind turning to Sally, alone in some unknown location. “Another man unknown to the first starts his life as a failure, an overweight outcast to society. He finds purpose in a game that allows him to shed the extra pounds and become an elite ranked user and respected individual. By some act of luck he manages to catch the fancy of a beautiful woman. They fall in love and live out the whole fairytale of the perfect relationship.” Mr. Smith seemed amused with his own words.
I hated the man and wanted him to shut up but his story was gnawing at something inside me. He continued to my dismay, “The man in love gets in a car one beautiful morning. I’m sure the sun was shining and the birds were chirping and love songs were lingering in the air. His mind was so distracted with this new found relationship that he hardly noticed the little bump on a quaint residential street.”
Something tugged soft on my sleeve. I looked down and saw Sally’s two round beautiful blue eyes staring up at me. They were concerned and scared. “Daddy, I don’t like this man. I want to go home,” she said waving my arm back and forth as her head darted around.
“Alright now we will be able to go in a minute,” I said to calm her anxiety. I got down to her level and kissed her forehead. She loved it when I did that.
“Stop it,” Silvia said. Mr. Smith was now smirking with a ruthless smile. He continued with his voice raised, “The police said it was a horrific scene. A little girl with a backpack on was playing unsupervised in the street when she was killed by a hit and run. She died in her father’s arms, a decorated war veteran that should’ve been watching her. This single act brings these two separate realities crashing together without their knowledge.”
Sally started coughing and her eyes shot into the back of her head. She was gasping for air. “Sally, SALLYYY... HELP, HELP ME,” I couldn’t get her to focus. I picked her up into my arms and put my hand to her chest. Her heart was beating so fast. The look in her eyes was pure fear. “SALLY! SALLY!” Blood shot out of her nostrils and poured onto my pants. Her body began to convulse on my lap. “Oh Goddddddd... GODD NOOOOOO. HELP ME.” I looked at Silvia and she was motionless. Evo was still shaking back in forth on the ground with his head tilted in shame. “WHAT ARE YOU STANDING AROUND FOR? HELP ME,” I screamed.
Mr. Smith was wide eyed now. He began yelling over the top of Sally’s gurgles for life, “Let’s continue the story Mr. Boggs. The war veteran’s daughter is killed by a freak hit and run accident. The police fall short in their investigation, mostly by my doing. They come to the conclusion that an illegally operating VEG player was responsible for the act and had acquired their gear from the notorious Gothamsreckoning!” Sally was turning white as a sheet and I was shaking her trying to make her come to. My hands were dripping with her blood. I began giving her mouth to mouth trying to force air into her little chest between the coughing fits.
“This is where it gets really good! This highly decorated veteran hits the bottle to try and drink away his pain. After his wife leaves him, he joins a collection agency to hunt and arrest illegally operating VEG users, desperately clinging to the hope that one day he would come face to face wi
th the person solely responsible for the death of his daughter. Weeks become months, and months become years without success. This poor grieving father, in a desperate attempt to salvage his sanity, manifests a version of his daughter that he takes on his hunts. It keeps the demons at bay, allowing him to focus on the job at hand, and in turn makes him forget the real reason that he began hunting Gothamsreckoning in the first place.
“Daddy,” Sally said her hand resting upon my face. She was younger now, still covered in blood but calm. “Daddy I love you.... I love you always. You are my hero.” My tears rushed over her face turning red as they mixed with her blood, crashing to the street below. Red lights flashed invasively in a bombarding blur. The screams of my wife rang out in my ears.
“You can’t leave us, I need you baby, I can’t live without you,” I said trying to squeeze her back to life.
“It’s ok Daddy...you will be ok. It’s not your fault.” Her eyes didn’t blink they just stared at me. “I will always be with you Daddy. Let go... Let go...”
It was her hand that faded first, pixels dissolved in front of me, dancing around in circles before disappearing into nothingness. I gripped at it but it was gone before I could touch it. Then her body started to go. I grabbed at it wildly, as the weight of her being seemed to disappear. “SALLY...WAIT. WAIT... NOOO... GODDDD NOOOOO,” I screamed. Her blue eyes were still locked onto mine and she was smiling. I couldn’t stop crying but she was so calm. Her smile was beautiful; her rosy red plump cheeks were perfect. She was my angel. My little sweet angel with bright blue eyes like her mother. Then she vanished, like the augmented reality I had become so used to. She was gone... forever. Then something came over me and I sang.
“Sleep deep and long my children
Without worry of work or time
Keep and cherish innocence
And always be sublime.
Sleep deep and long my children
Sleep past the darkest day
Keep blind to pain and heartache
Sleep troubled times away.
Sleep deep and long my children
Sleep through your regret
Right now sleep for all of us
Have dreams you never forget.”